Like An Animal
by epephany
Summary: John was already crossing the room, his strides confident and filled with purpose. When he got to the detective he plucked the lit cigarette out of his mouth, tossed it on the floor and crushed it under his heavy boot. He turned to Sherlock, gripped the back of his neck, pulled him down those delicious inches needed and kissed him.


Like An Animal

Sherlock stood back achingly against his mirror, lighting up a cigarette. He was glad John was gone so he could do this. He was at some ceremony, his old army buddy was receiving a Purple Heart and he was invited. He inhaled deeply, the nicotine swelling in his lungs as the end of it glowed orange. Sherlock thought back to a mere two hours ago when he was standing in the kitchen, staring at a photo of John from the army when _he_ came up behind him.

Sherlock knew he was there without turning around, as always, he smelled of soap, shampoo and a sharp woodsy aftershave. John stood behind him for a long time, Sherlock growing tenser with every silent minute that passed. Holmes had turned towards him. He was surprised that Watson showed the same longing and (unbelievably) lust that covered his face. They stood chest to chest for a moment and just when he thought he was going to make a move, John swore under his breath and left the room.

Sherlock chastised himself for thinking of John that way. He'd been chastising himself for a long time because every time he thought of John, he thought of him pressed up against his chest, thought of their lips pressed together and of so _so_ much more. He was shocked when he looked and saw that his cigarette was now just a small butt, he replaced it amazed at how he fast he had finished it. Sherlock took a long drag, wondering how he had even allowed himself to think about john the way he did. It was completely illogical, the doctor was not gay, he had made that fairly obvious, and neither was he. But…the definition of gay was a person who is attracted to the same sex, and that definitely applied to him. And yet…he wasn't attracted to men…he was attracted to John.

He raked his long fingers through his curls in annoyance, why did feeling have to be this… _hard_? He heard a faint opening and closing of the front door and he immediately tried to push all thoughts of John out of his head. There was loud thumping through the house, as if an angry soldier was stomping through it…wait…

His door flew open, yellow light spilling into the half-lit room. Sherlock turned and…bloody hell, he thought. John stood in the door way wearing just his army pants (which were tucked loosely into a pair of Timberlands) and a pair of gleaming dog tags around his neck. Johns' body was exactly what you would expect from an ex-soldier, all muscle. His abs and the V in his hips were distractingly obvious; his biceps looked hard as brick. Sherlock opened his mouth but John was already crossing the room, his strides confident and filled with purpose. When he got to the detective he plucked the lit cigarette out of his mouth, tossed it on the floor and crushed it under his heavy boot. He turned to Sherlock, gripped the back of his neck, pulled him down those delicious inches needed and kissed him; Sherlock's eyes bugged in surprise, his brain stumbling over the sudden turn of events. John kissed him with certainty and passion. After his initial shock, Sherlock grabbed John hips, pulling him so close that their bodies seemed to melt together. John's fingers twisted into the detective's dark hair, his other was wrapped waist. John flicked his tongue into Holmes' mouth, making a small noise escape Sherlock's throat; it made John hold him even tighter, feel even more protective of him than he already was. He reached up and with a strength his lover didn't know he had, John ripped Sherlock's shirt open, the buttons exploding off the fabric and raining down onto the floor. Sherlock was pleasantly surprised and in response, grabbed John by his biceps, turned him around and slammed him against the wall, his back hitting it with a loud thud. A moan flittered out of John's mouth when Sherlock grazed his tongue over his. Sherlock's pants were incredibly tight, due to the massive erection he was experiencing.

John was on a sensory overload; he could smell Sherlock's cologne everywhere, his rough war-war hands caught on the detectives ribbon like skin, he could taste him even when he pulled his mouth away and he could see every line and angle of his soon to be lover's body.

Sherlock dragged his velvety mouth from John's and traced them down his the ex-soldiers neck and across his shoulder. John's head hit the wall as he completely gave himself way to the feel of Sherlock's mouth on his skin; forgetting that he had come in here with the purpose of leading. John looked down on Sherlock (for once) and was amazed. He was amazed because Sherlock, who was normally so closed off and reserved was willing to be this vulnerable and this exposed, in front of him of all people. Sherlock let his linger on the many scars and marks that covered John's body, he loved them, they proved that he had lived. The detective then began to feather his full lips down the doctor's muscular stomach until he was met with rough camouflage fabric…and he _bloody hell_ …he pulled his army pants down _with his teeth_. He has to have done this before, John thought incredulously at Sherlock's unbelievably sexy move. He had had women go down on him before, but none of them had done anything like that before…it made John even harder, which he didn't even think was possible.

Sherlock pink tongue snaked out and gave a soft lick to the sensitive slit at the tip of the doctor's erection. John closed his eyes as his breath caught. The detective fastened his lips around the head of his cock and gave a small pull. John groaned and his fingers found themselves woven through Sherlock's dark curls. Sherlock drew John deep inside of his mouth, closing his eyes as he felt him completely fill his mouth. He moved his head up and down slowly, the smooth skin felt like silk and tasted like heaven. The dark eyed man angled his head and _literally_ deep throated the smaller man; John's eyes bugged in surprise when his cock hit the ring of muscles in the back of Sherlock's throat. The detective promptly gagged, pulled back, then dove directly back in. He held the entirety of John cock in his throat, drew up, and then back down, then up…

John's legs were trembling and loud, excited moans slipped from between his lips. He was shaking with pleasure, his eyes fluttered, his breaths short and quick. He suddenly realized that he was pulling Sherlock hair…fairly hard and relaxed his grip. John was like melted butter on the wall, Sherlock had on the very edge and just the very thought of that, that Sherlock fucking Holmes (the man he had been dreaming of for so long) had him like this was enough to make him come. Sherlock's long skilled fingers reached up to flitter over his balls, light enough to tickle and enough to make Watson bite his lip to keep from bleating out more obscene noises. He was stuffed down Sherlock's very tight and very wet throat…the detective moved his free hand to grip him by the hip, his head bobbing with the rhythm of John's rocking pelvis.

"Sher-Sherlock…I'm about to…" he began, trying to warn the man that he was about to come. The need was set deep in his stomach threatened to tear through his body at any second. His legs were shaking. He gave an almost animalistic growl, then…he came. It exploded out of him, shooting the warm saltiness straight down Sherlock's willing throat. Sherlock pulled John's cock from his mouth with a loud, wet _pop,_ his lips swollen and shiny. John looked at him, breathing harder than ever, his pupils were dilated, and he was looking at him…the way he looked at him. He couldn't describe how that look made him feel. In a flurry of movement, he hoisted the detective to his feet, backed him up and practically threw him onto his back on his bed. He crawled over him, his still hard penis unavoidably apparent. He covered Sherlock's mouth with his, who in return, gently bit his bottom lip. John had never been with another man before, just women, but he didn't worry about feeling inadequate or inexperienced, when he was with Sherlock, he knew exactly what to do. It was as if he had had Sherlock's body in his hands for years, like he was his before they even knew it. John reached over the detective for a pillow and slid it under Sherlock's hips, who looked at him quizzically.

"What that for?" He asked him, dark eyebrows pulled together. John felt his cheeks flare up with heat.

"I…I don't want to hurt you." He told him, his voice low. Sherlock's entire face changed, softening and filling with well…love. Even though many people would argue that Sherlock was incapable of human emotion, John couldn't deny it, it was written all over his beautiful face. The doctor ran his hand down Holmes' leg, drawing it up to wrap around his waist. He didn't want him on his stomach; he wanted to see him during every moment of this. John took the base of his shaft with his hand, slowly…ever so slowly, entering Sherlock. The dark haired man took a sharp breath, the initial pain catching him off-guard. It hurt more than he thought it would but at the same time, the mind-numbing pleasure of it and how wickedly good it felt trumped the pain. John's eyes seemed to shut themselves as the sensation swept through him. John slowly slid out …then back in, both of the men groaned in ecstasy, amazed and lost in the new sensation. The doctor gave long, slow pulls while Sherlock moaned beneath him. John looked at him, slightly sweating, eyebrows knitted, gasping and withering with pleasure. John began to pump into him faster, feeling his tight walls clench around his cock magnificently. Watson's hips were a flurry of movement, giving Sherlock all of him as his breaths came out in short huffs. Sherlock felt his orgasm building within in, it was fate that John's hit at the same time. With a cry, Sherlock came, the thick substance spilling onto John's stomach, which was pressed right up to his erection. He had never orgasmed before and the feeling was sensational, it rocketed through his body and shocked his entire system of being. He struggled to catch his breath as John came inside of him. John barely had time to pull out before he collapsed onto of Sherlock, panting heavily now. The room was dead silent, other than their labored breathing.

"I can't feel my bloody legs." John told him. The men then fell into fits of uncontrollable laughter. Sherlock felt about for John's hand, and when he found it, he laced his pale finger in the soldier's rough ones.

"I love you John." He said into his hair. John's smile could have spilt his face.

"I love you too Sherlock." The men wrapped themselves around each other, not being able to get close enough.

 _Author's' note – Hi, I really hope that y'all will comment and tell me what y'all think if my story, I would really appreciate the feedback!_

 _Fan Mix –_

 _Animals by Maroon 5_

 _Close your eyes by Parmalee_

 _In your arms by Nico and Vinz_

 _The big bang by Katy Tiz_

 _Wet dreams by J. Cole_

 _Slow motion by Trey Songs_


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